


Without Losing a Piece of Me, How Do I Get To Heaven?

by caledonian



Category: Marvel, Sebastian Stan - Fandom
Genre: Anxiety, F/M, M/M, One-Shot, Pregnancy, Sad, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Threesomes, You Have Been Warned, i made myself sad writing this, no, really - Freeform, unwanted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-13
Updated: 2016-11-13
Packaged: 2018-08-30 20:00:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8547121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caledonian/pseuds/caledonian
Summary: He knows he's not good enough. But with a pregnant wife, he can't just....leave. He needs to make preparations, and if that means hurting himself along the way...then, that's nothing new.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, my tip is to listen to the title song whilst reading this. I love this song ('Heaven' - Troye Sivan) and I genuinely cannot tell you why. But it really gives you an idea of how Sebastian feels at this point in his life, and how desperate he is to make things right for other people.  
> Normal crap--I don't own these people, and I don't know them.

With trembling fingers, he traced the curve of her stomach. Under the silent silver streaks of moonlight, her bump looked almost translucent, pale and flawless. Tiny toes pushed against the smooth skin, and he tapped them gently with his fingertip. “Hey,” he whispered, “Don’t. You’re gonna wake mommy.”

Almost in response, Taylor turned her head, chin jutting forward as she nuzzled into the pillow. Her arms splayed beside her face, she pushed her pelvis toward Sebastian with a quiet sigh. His heart swelled. She was beyond beautiful before, when they were friends, when they were dating, when they married—but now, her belly swollen with _his_ baby, she’d never looked more gorgeous.

Sebastian dragged the duvet back over Taylor, huddling in close so her stomach pressed to his. He’d never admit it to anyone— _especially_ Taylor—but the feeling of his baby girl kicking against his abs during the night comforted him in a way he hadn’t experienced since he was young. His hooded eyes scanned over Taylor’s sleep-slack face. Traced the rich shape of her lips, the gentle slope of her nose, the thick lashes that brushed her cheeks. He slipped his hand from the small of her back to cup the back of her head, tangling his slender fingers in the silky strands. That, for sure, was something he _adored_ about his wife. The near waist-long waves of dark curls, perfect for burying his nose in, or pulling when he yanked her head back when he fucked her i—

 _Okay, okay, nope. Bad idea._ He quickly angled his crotch away from Taylor, attempting to hide his poorly-timed erection. Christ, it had been so _long._ He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d been buried in her warmth—the last time he’d felt like he was truly home. But he didn’t hold anything against her. If all he had to deal with was a regularly fattening dick against his thigh while she had to carry an _actual human being_ in her, then he could stay quiet.

If he wanted to keep his balls, then he’d stay quiet.

-

“What do you think? This one—or, oh my god, look at this one.”

From where he lounged on the sofa, he sleepily tilted the last of his energy drink into his mouth and attempted to focus on the documentary playing on the TV. Fucking penguins, yet again. Didn’t people want to know about something else? Lions, maybe? Christ, even stick insects would be better than having to see the same black and white bowling pins waddle about stony beaches—

“Seb?”

His head snapped to Taylor. “Sorry, what?”

He shrunk back automatically when he realised he hadn’t been listening. People were getting more and more irritated with him recently for it; the Russo’s, Chris, his mom, even his _stepbrother._ Everything he seemed to do was wrong, and nothing he did made up for it.

_“Look, Seb, we’ve done this scene like three hundred times. Try a little harder, yeah?”_

_“What’s up with you? You’re usually not this bad at remembering lines, bud—“_

_“No, you’re_ not _phoning enough! Your stepfather and I haven’t heard from you in weeks, Sebastian, it’s just not good enough—“_

 _“You haven’t phoned your mom yet? Seb,_ I _speak to the woman more than you do. Dad has Alzheimer’s, for fucks sake—“_

And no matter

how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to stop the comments sinking into his very being. The criticism seemed to embed themselves in his bones, weighting him down, making him feel so, so _heavy—_

“Honey? You okay?”

He blinked. From where she sat, huddled under a blanket, knees balancing the laptop, she watched him curiously. She didn’t look overly irritated, but he knew it was just a matter of time before he managed to say or do the wrong thing.

Forcing himself up, he croaked, “Sorry, what did you say?”

But she’d shut the laptop, leaning to set it on the coffee table. The blanket slipped to puddle on the floor. He automatically reached for it, but she made a quiet noise, gently settling down into his lap. His arms immediately went to wrap around her, gentle and protective. That familiar blip in his heart throbbed at the feeling of both his girls being close to him. He could do _something_ right at least.

Taylor pressed a soft kiss to his temple, cupping his stubbly chin with her warm hands. “Baby,” she breathed, nuzzling her nose to his. “Honey, tell me what’s wrong. You’ve been so down for months. Talk to me.”

Sebastian opened his mouth—and automatically shut it again. _She’s pregnant, dumbass,_ his mind warned. _Don’t give her more to worry about. It might hurt the baby._

“Nothing,” he promised, trying to inject as much enthusiasm into the statement as possible. She pulled back, watching him carefully. “Really, Tay, I’m fine. Just tired. You know how much filming takes out of me.”

She looked doubtful, but instead of pushing it, placed his hand against her bump. A few seconds later, a tiny hand pressed against his palm. His throat closed, eyes threatening to tear. “She’s cheering you on,” Taylor whispered against his cheek. “She believes in her Daddy.”

_Then how come Daddy doesn’t believe in himself._

_-_

“Seriously, man, how the _hell_ is that girl still with you? She could get anyone and she settled for you? Raw, dude.”

The table laughed, bumping glasses to Anthony’s statement.

Sebastian smiled—not the real thing, just the fake one he preferred to use nowadays. It took less effort, and prevented people from asking if he was okay.

Which he was. Completely.

Chris chortled, hand stroking at his beard. “No, no, I _totally_ agree. Like, how is Taylor not banging some guy behind you back? She’s a solid twenty, and on a good day you’re barely a six.”

There was no venom in Chris’ tone, just the easy teasing he usually brought to the group. There was no way he really believed Sebastian was anything less than a ten; he’d drunkenly told him so one night, right before pressing his lips to Sebastian’s for ‘good luck.’

The next morning, Sebastian had struggled not to laugh retelling the story. Chris’ blush had stained all the way down his neck as he tried to hide behind his ridiculously sized coffee mug.

But now, as they sat in the restaurant, their conversation verging slightly on too loud, Sebastian found himself staring at Chris. At his strong, wide hands, his broad chest, his heavy-set shoulders. The curve of his jaw just visible through the perfectly groomed beard. The smooth paleness of his skin. His white teeth and his genuine smile and his complete and utter _Chris_ -ness.

He’d found him.

Ever since the doctor had said those words, Sebastian had been on the hunt. He wanted someone who could protect, but also love. Someone who was as big, or bigger, than him, so they could guarantee the safety of his wife, his daughter. Someone _better than him._

“You have a severe anxiety disorder,” the doctor said, quietly. “They often don’t appear alone, which is where I expect the depression comes in. I want to recommend you some help, Sebastian.”

But getting help would mean telling Taylor, and that was something he just couldn’t bring himself to do. Even though she was exhausted most of the time, she smiled constantly now, the wide one that showed off just how white her teeth were. He’d catch her singing in the kitchen as she made dinner, or humming in the shower as she washed her hair. She’d finally gotten the life she’d craved since she was a teenager; the house, the career, the husband, with a topping of a baby along the way.

She was so happy.

And it was the only thing that brought that small spark to his eyes now. Seeing that at least something he’d done had brought genuine happiness to her life; he partnered in buying the house. He’d provided her with the means to carry that baby in her womb.

He’d done something right. Just not enough.

Outside, they rested against a glass balcony. He offered his packet to Chris.

Chris raised a brow, grinning.

“Really? I didn’t think you smoked.”

Sebastian shrugged. “I don’t. Nervous habit.”

“Well, don’t mind if I do.”

They lit their cigarettes and breathed the smoke into the chilly night air. It floated up in swirls of grey, disappearing into the black sky.

Sebastian didn’t know why he said it. Maybe it was the drink, or maybe it was the insomnia, or maybe it was just the fact he didn’t give a shit anymore, but he turned to Chris, exhaled silently, and asked, “Do you wanna have a threesome?”

Chris choked on his drag. Once he'd composed himself, he wheezed, “ _What?_ ”

“I—I mean, I think Taylor would be up for it. I know I would.” Sebastian frowned. “I thought you’d be, but—.”

“Seb. Sebastian. You’re proposing a threesome with your wife. No, no, scratch that—your _pregnant_ wife.”

“If you’re not into that sort of thing, that’s cool. It’s just, y’know—you’re single, and we’re open to stuff like—“

“If you’re serious, then _hell yes._ But—“ Chris flushed, chewing his lip. “This won’t—y’know, this won’t make things weird between us, right?”

Sebastian flicked the butt over the balcony before turning. “You’ve kissed me before. Plus, I think we’ve walked in on each other jerking it far too many times for either of us to be considered completely straight.”

Chris’ mouth twitched into a grin. “You’re on, Stan. Let’s get out of here.”

-

It did work, at first.

A few months ago, he might’ve been offended at how quickly Taylor agreed. Now, he didn’t feel anything. She seemed to think it was just some fun, something new and exciting.

His plan was working.

He watched as Chris pressed her back into the bed, pressing kisses to her throat. She moaned, tilting her head back, fingers clenching in the material covering his biceps. He made a pleased hum when she teasingly leaned up to press a kiss to the hollow of his throat.

They looked so _pretty_ together.

She whined low in her throat, arching up and pushing Chris onto his back. If she lay on her back for too long, the baby rested on her spine and made it difficult for her to breathe. God knows how many times Sebastian had had to calm her down before she could work herself into a panic attack after she woke up, unable to pull enough air into her lungs.

“Hey, slow down,” Chris breathed gently, smoothing his hands up her bare thighs as she straddled his waist. Her hair trickled down her back, and he softly tugged on a strand to make her laugh.

When she did, it made Sebastian’s heart seize painfully. _Humouring her—check._

Both were naked by the time Taylor finally glanced up, doe-eyed, at Sebastian. “Isn’t this supposed to be a threesome, baby? C'mon, I want to see you and Chris getting it on.”

Chris huffed a laugh into her shoulder. His hand came up to cup over her bump, as tender as if it were his baby resting against her pelvis.

Sebastian swallowed dryly, trying to associate himself with the surroundings again. He let her pull him to the bed, not struggling as she stripped him of his shirt. Gently— _Christ, for such a big guy, he’s a fucking softy—_ Chris pressed himself against his back, plastering his hard chest to Sebastian’s spine. Lips pressed to his neck, kissing up and up, only coming to a stop when they nibbled on his earlobe. Sebastian couldn’t ignore the spark of pleasure that shuddered through him. Chris and Taylor were stunning, both inside and out. He didn’t fucking deserve them, didn’t deserve to be touched by them, wasn’t good enough for either of them to even look at—

Taylor kneeled on the floor between his spread legs, winking at him as she unbuttoned his jeans. A throb went through his already hard dick, but it was quickly followed by a rush of horror.   
_She can’t see—fuck, neither of them can—  
_ “Don’t suck me off for too long,” he joked, shakily. “I’m not gonna last, Tay.”   
“That’s okay, baby,” she grinned, reaching into his boxers to pull out his dick. “We’ve got all night.”   
“Oh my _God,_ ” Chris whined in his ear. His hand snaked around Sebastian’s body to slide under his dick and cup his balls. Sebastian hissed at the contact, leaning his head back to rest on Chris’ shoulder.   
“Seb, your cock is fucking massive,” he groaned, breathing hotly in Sebastian’s ear. “You think you’ll manage to put it in me tonight? Squeeze it into my tight hole? Fuck me hard and squirt right in my ass? I’d keep it there for you, all fucking night if you asked—“   
Sebastian’s hand shot down to wrap around the base of his dick, squeezing _hard._ Cum threatened to ooze out of his slit, but he desperately tried to remember why the _fuck_ he was doing this to bring him back from the edge.

The mental images of divorce papers did the job.

He tugged Taylor to her feet and sat her beside Chris. They both eyed his dick as it slapped against his stomach, partially trapped by his jeans.

He forced himself to calm down before running a hand through his hair.

“I want you to fuck Taylor,” he rasped. “And then, I want you to eat each other out.”

Chris’ eyes widened. He reached for Sebastian’s thigh and squeezed. (Sebastian had to fight off a wince at that.)

“You—you sure? You don’t want some of the action?”

_This isn’t about sex. This is about trusting you enough to look after my girls once I’m gone._

But he couldn’t _say_ that.

Instead, he settled for, “Trust me, Chris. I get my kicks from watching.”

Taylor wrapped an arm around Chris’ waist, pressing a kiss to the shell of his ear as she cooed, “It’s true. He once came in his sweats from just hearing about me eating another girl out.”

“Oh, _fuck._ ” Chris gripped his dick hard, knuckles whitening. “You’re gonna make me come _now._ ”

For hours, Sebastian watched. He gave up stroking his dick—it limpened the further he detached himself from what was happening. His eyes glazed over as he sat, watching Chris and Taylor wrap themselves around one another again and again and again until the room stank of sex and heat and _sadness—_

They fell asleep about four-ish. Chris spooned her, nose tucked cutely into the base of her neck. Taylor lay with one arm outstretched, almost reaching for Sebastian. His eyes welled with tears as he bent to press a kiss to her crooked fingers.

He combed a strand of sex-mussed hair behind Chris’ ear. He made a quiet noise in his sleep, turning his head toward Sebastian’s touch. Sebastian’s heart pulsed; in another time, this could’ve been his life. He could’ve had Chris. He could’ve had Taylor. It would’ve been weird, unconventional—but deep down, he knew he belonged to both of them.

Lastly, he pressed a kiss to the skin protecting his baby girl.

He’d never meet her. He’d never feel the squeeze of her fist around his finger, or feel his throat tighten as he held her for the first time. He’d miss her first words, and the first time she’d walk.

The first time she squealed how much she loved him.

It was only then, with his lips pressed to Taylor’s bump, that he allowed himself to cry.

He'd never experience any of that—but Chris would. And if he had to pick anyone to raise his daughter, it would always, without a doubt, be Chris.

In the living room, balancing against the bowl on the coffee table, sat two letters. One addressed to each of them. He’d handwritten them, painstakingly, between takes, or when his mind refused to quieten during the night.

Chris’ was the easier of the two, but really, in retrospect, not easy at all. He’d spoken about how Chris was the friend he’d desperately wanted in high school, the one he’d fantasised would protect him from his relentless succession of bullies. About how Chris had made all those long, gruelling shoots a hundred times easier just by laughing, or telling a stupid joke, or even fucking smiling in Sebastian’s direction. About how Sebastian had always felt slightly closer to him than he should’ve, but not because he didn’t love Taylor. He loved Taylor and he loved Chris. Easy.

Taylor’s…Taylor’s tore that last shred of what made him _him_ apart. Seven pages. Seven pages of how the English language severely lacked the words to define just how he felt about her. How he loved the way her hair shone in the sun; the way her laugh was infectious, and was impossible to stay immune to; how much he appreciated the way she cuddled up to him when it rained, fingers curling into his hoodie, head bumping gently against his chin.

How much he loved her for giving him a family, even before they found out she was pregnant. She was his heart, his sun and his home. She brought a sense of completeness to him, something he’d struggled with his whole life. At the end of both letters, he’s shakily written:

 _I know you’ll be angry with me. But I was never going to leave Taylor unprotected. The two of you belong together, in the same way Taylor and I did, or Chris and I might have. We were a triangle of_ rightness. _Be together—be the family our little girl deserves.  
Sometimes, I feel like I’m a star. Sometimes I feel okay, like I can get through my life, like I can be who you deserve. But then I remember—you two are constellations. You embody everything it means to be _good. _To be_ whole. _You are two of the most self-less, kindest people I’ve ever met in my life._

_I wanted to leave you with a kiss, but maybe this will be okay too. Keep being constellations. Keep being my sky. Keep being everything I ever lived for. I_

_love you. And no matter how many words I write on this piece of paper, there will never be enough to describe how it felt to have you in my life._

 

-

In the car, he stroked shaky fingers over the healing scars littering his thighs. They hadn’t helped at all; all they’d brought was weeks of wearing sweatpants to bed, of attempting to keep Taylor from sitting down too violently on his lap. They were ugly, like him, like his life, like his impact on everybody and everything.

The last time he sat in this car, Taylor had been in the passenger seat, tearfully beaming as she stroked a finger over the glossy scan photo of their baby.

Now, a gun sat right where she had. But he couldn’t get himself to move. To start the car, to drive until he couldn’t anymore and blow his fucking brains out. But his limbs were still too heavy, too lifeless to even lift to clutch the steering wheel.

Instead, he stared out of the garage at the ever-shifting New York street. Even in darkness, the city, really, never slept.

He could relate.

If he had forced himself to just _move_ , then he would’ve missed the sound of hurried steps racing toward the car.

Hands slapped against the window. He barely reacted, eyes still staring ahead.

“ _Seb! Seb, please, open the fucking door! Baby—Baby—please—“_

Seconds later, the passenger window smashed open. Glass scattered across his lap, tumbling over his unmoving arms.

_Chris._

He didn’t know how they got him back up to the apartment. He could barely remember his own name. But he registered being sat on his sofa, being forced to drink water, being sandwiched between two sobbing bodies. His hand was crushed to his thigh by Taylor’s stomach, and it was then— _only then_ —that he felt a swell of _air_ finally reach his lungs.

Clarity was almost painful.

“Seb—Seb—I’m so sorry—baby, we need you, we _need_ you—“

“You have us, I promise, you have both of us—we’re going to get you help, Seb, I’m fucking promising you—“

He was loved.

They _loved him._

With a choking sob, he found the strength to wrap his arms around Taylor and Chris, pulling them tight to him. His baby girl nudged his leg, as soft as anything, and suddenly—

Suddenly, he wasn’t scared anymore.


End file.
